The Choices We Make
by mightyballoon05
Summary: Roan was the son of a legendary weapon smith who went missing a decade ago. His fathers weapons were better at channeling the user's Aura making them more dangerous. It is his mission to collect the scattered weapons created by his father we are along for the ride.


Chapter One

Antiques, tools lost to legend and time. Mankind has heavily relied on these tools to fight back against the ever-encroaching darkness. Always creating masterful tools to be used against their enemies. It is a shame that they often use these weapons against themselves. Fighting against one another in their pitiful displays of power all the while shattering the prospect of peace and unity. These games will be their downfall in the coming trials.

It is a warm spring day as a caravan of carts bob up and down toward a small settlement. Roan sat next to the driver of the first cart, staring off into the distance. He was wearing a dark maroon tee shirt and a loose blue stone necklace. His pants were typical dark blue jeans with some stains of grass. He was a well-tanned young man fit as a fiddle. He pressed up his glasses to the bridge of his nose, as the caravan crest over the hill they were climbing. There was smoke and fire ahead coming from the town followed by screams.

Roan already started by jumping off the cart barely rolling to a stop. A rasp of Roan's sword rang out with him pulling it out of the sheathe on the left of his body. Sword now in his hand now pulsed a warm sensation through his body. The ring on his right hand had a faint maroon glow as the sword rested in Roan's hand. His breath condensed with every release in the cold morning air.

 _Okay get in, kill whatever is killing them in there, and get out. A simple plan for simple problems,_ Roan thought to himself reaching the main gate of the settlement. It was still burning and completely blown off its hinges. The devastation of whatever attacked really fought hard, debris scattered all along the ground, fires burning along the canopies, and every bit of glass not barred scattered the ground. All in all, it was a real ghost town.

 _Aw man there is no one here,_ Roan thought as he was walking down the street. I've got to get to wherever they've all gone.

Searching up and down the small town was more boring than it was dangerous. Most of the Grimm were starting to dissolve and the sounds of fighting were far off. There were people running up and down the streets, mainly wearing green leather armor with blue jeans. Holding rifles and shuffling deeper into the city. A shot rang out from the next street over bringing Roan's head snapped towards the sound. Squinting and scanning the corner; after a moment there was nothing other than more gunfire. After this Roan walked toward the sounds of fighting.

A single man stood against a massive wave of the Grimm. A small family huddles behind him being pulled away from the fighting by other militia soldiers. A small plushy toy shaped like a small animal falls out from the child. Roan started walking faster toward the brave man standing against a huge wave of Grimm. He was starting to waver, missed opportunities against the monsters, small cuts on his exposed arms and face were bleeding. The man raised his weapon to block an overhead strike from the lead Grimm, leaving his left flank open to the counter attack. The Grimm's claws dug deep into his body raising him slightly into the air and tossing him down onto the street down below. No flare of Aura only a still body tumbling down toward doom.

 _Gods. He has no aura?_

Roan started to pick up the pace toward the man lying there lifeless, the remaining Grimm never stood a chance. Rage boiled from deep inside Roan as he raised his shield up against the incoming attack from the first Grimm. Raising up his sword in a cleaving motion at the same time, severing off its arm and kicking the body toward the rest of the monsters clambering down to get to him. Gunfire rang out from behind Roan, piercing through the first line and embedding into the barricade. Glancing behind him, Roan found the other militia members lowering their weapons. No more Grimm came over the walls but their dissolving forms left behind a thick miasma making it much colder than it should have been in the middle of summer. Leaving the soldiers to secure the situation, Roan reached down to the dying man at his feet. Laying his hand down he started a mantra that was passed down from his father to him

 _"It is in our choices that we shape the world,_

 _A twisting and turning sea of malice and charity,_

 _Unbound by time and space, we endure,_

 _I unravel your soul and free for you forge your own destiny."_

A light flashed as the last sentence was spoken. Exhaustion washed over Roan as his soul left his body into the man laying before him, just as quickly as it started it was gone.

He sat there for a while looking over the boy that was no older than he was. Each rise of his chest was shallow and ragged, but he was breathing. The bloody gashes all along his body were starting to knit back together. Some of the other guards were starting to escort the people out of the ruins of the crossing roads and into some of the sturdier buildings. As one of the people passed him by Roan grabbed her arm.

"Get him to a bed," Roan barely managed above a whisper holding the woman's arm. She nodded to Roan and scooped up the young man, carrying him into the makeshift medical tent. Then he lied down on his back staring off into the sky above him.

 _I am totally going to get it when I make it back into Vale, they are not going to like it that I unlocked an unregistered person's Aura,_ he thought as he lied there basking in the sun.

* * *

 **AN: SO, A LITTLE OF A SLOW START, BUT HOPEFULLY WILL HAVE A SCHEDULE OF ONE CHAPTER A WEEK. STILL GOT TO PLAN THE REST SO, MODERATE EXPECTATIONS. I AM REALLY EXCITED TO BE WRITING AGAIN, PLEASE LEAVE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF THE STORY. I WILL ALWAYS TRY TO READ THEM ALL.**


End file.
